#tangerine bullet train

[babsworlds]

YOU’RE (NOT) ON YOUR OWN, KID.

pairing. Tangerine x fem! reader

synopsis. Tangerine finally reunites with his girl.

warnings. Inspired by song You’re On Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift, poorly written fight scenes, angst (happy ending)

YOU WERE SURE YOU HAD LIVED TWO LIVES IN YOUR LIFETIME. The only problem was you couldn't remember almost anything from the previous one.

Well, there was one thing—a tall, gorgeous man with a specific mustache and beautifully curled brown hair.

You dreamt about him every night, and it was painful to wake up, leaving him behind. No matter how much you wanted to remember, it was impossible. The only thing you could recall was that his name began with T.

T...

Tangerine...

Apart from you, he remembered you all too well. He remembered every detail of you.

You were the love of his life until you were taken by an evil organization during one of your missions. Since that time, he never stopped searching for you.

Every night, as he lay awake, memories of your shared past haunted him. He recalled your first meeting, a chance encounter during a high-stakes mission. You had been a formidable force, captivating him with your strength and determination. He couldn't help but admire the way you handled yourself, both in the field and in your personal life.

The memories of your time together flooded his mind—late-night conversations, stolen moments of tenderness, and the unwavering trust you had in each other. He remembered the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, the warmth of your smile, and the sound of your voice. Each memory was a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost.

Tangerine’s relentless search for you had taken him to the darkest corners of the world. He had faced countless dangers, all in the hope of finding you. He refused to believe that you were gone forever. The love he had for you was a driving force, pushing him to keep going, no matter the odds.

Meanwhile, you continued to dream of him every night. The dreams were vivid, filled with the intense emotions you felt when you were together. In these dreams, you could feel his touch, hear his voice, and see the love in his eyes. It was a painful reminder of the life you couldn't remember, but it also gave you hope that someday, you might find him again.

You were sent on a mission to Japan and found yourself on the Bullet Train, engaged in a relentless fight with a man who called himself Ladybug. He had been interfering with your mission all day, and you were both exhausted from the continuous struggle.

"C’mon, let me take a breath," he urged, leaning against the counter in the food car. You rested against the opposite counter, feeling the weight of the day's events bearing down on you.

"Lady, I’m not sure, but this won’t give you back your imaginary husband," Ladybug shrugged casually, taking a sip from a bottle of water.

His words hit a nerve. The memories of your dreams, the mysterious man named Tangerine, and the fragments of your previous life swirled in your mind. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

“You don’t know anything about it,” you began, your eyes narrowing at him. “Every night the same dream,” you continued, the memories of your nightly visions haunting you.

“And every other morning the same...” you paused, the weight of your words hanging in the air. “Nightmare.” With that, you finished your sentence by dedicating your fist to his face.

Ladybug fought back with equal intensity, his movements quick and calculated. He blocked your punch and countered with a swift jab to your side, making you stagger slightly. The fight escalated, both of you trading blows with fierce determination.

“You’re not making this easy,” Ladybug grunted, dodging one of your strikes and aiming a kick at your legs.

“Neither are you,” you shot back, deflecting his kick and landing a punch on his shoulder.

Despite the intensity of the fight, there was a strange sense of respect growing between you. You could see that Ladybug was skilled, and he clearly wasn’t going to back down. But you were equally determined, driven by the desire to complete your mission and find answers about your past.

“Hey!” a voice, very familiar to you, shouted. You didn’t take much of it, assuming it was just another danger.

You quickly reacted, kicking the encounter's legs and making him collapse to the ground. You had him pinned under you, your hands around his neck, restricting his breathing. You didn’t scan him, acting purely on instinct.

“Hey!” the man under you shouted, struggling to catch his breath. “It’s me!” The voice grew more familiar, pulling at the edges of your memory.

“Y/n...” he gasped, and the moment his blue eyes met yours, it all came flooding back. The memories of your previous life, the dreams, the name—Tangerine.

You let go of your tight grip, your hands trembling. “No, no...” you breathed out, disbelief and realization washing over you. The man who haunted your dreams, the one you had been searching for without even knowing it, was right here beneath you.

You let go of him, standing up and looking at him in disbelief. He stood up as well, his eyes never leaving yours. "Oh my god," you whispered, the realization hitting you like a wave.

"It's you," you breathed out, your voice trembling with emotion as the memories came flooding back.

"It’s me," he confirmed, a smile spreading across his face as he walked towards you. His palms gently met your cheeks, his touch warm and familiar. The connection between you was undeniable, the bond that had been severed now reforged.

With a tenderness that made your heart ache, Tangerine leaned in and kissed you. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that moment. The kiss was a perfect blend of passion and longing, a reunion of souls that had been apart for far too long.

As the kiss deepened, the memories of your past life together surged through you—moments of laughter, whispered secrets, and unwavering trust. You had found each other again, against all odds.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried as you pulled away, resting your forehead against his. “I’m so sorry I forgot.”

Ladybug, still on the ground and holding his bleeding nose, exhausted from the fight, looked up at the two of you. “So he’s real. Wow,” he joked, wincing slightly.

“Shut up,” you said between sobs, narrowing your eyes at him. The gravity of the situation was too much for humor.

Tangerine gently cupped your face, his eyes filled with intense emotion. “I never stopped searching for you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I was everywhere. I couldn’t accept that you were gone.”

You could feel the pain and determination in his words. He had gone through so much to find you, and despite everything, he had never given up. The realization that you meant that much to him overwhelmed you.

“I remember now,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I remember everything. I missed you so much.”

Tangerine pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if he feared you might disappear again. “We’re together now,” he murmured, his voice filled with relief and love. “And I’ll never let anything happen to you again.”

Ladybug slowly got to his feet, still holding his nose. “Well, isn’t this a touching reunion?” he said, though there was a hint of genuine warmth in his voice. “But we’ve still got a things to complete, and I’m pretty sure there are people after us.”

“Hold them back, please,” you pleaded towards Ladybug. He rolled his eyes before leaving the room, giving you the privacy you needed with Tangerine.

You had lied to Tangerine a bit, claiming you remembered everything. The truth was, you remembered almost everything, except for the day you were taken away. That crucial day remained a blank, a dark void in your mind.

“How long was I gone?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of the question.

“Five years,” Tangerine replied, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and sorrow.

You choked on air as the reality of his words sank in. Five years. It felt like an eternity had passed, and yet, the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The pain, the longing, the uncertainty—it had all been a part of your life for so long.

Tangerine reached out, his hand gently squeezing yours. “I’m sorry it took so long to find you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “But I never gave up. Not for a single day.”

You could see the weariness in his eyes, the toll that the years of searching had taken on him. It was clear that he had been through his own hell, driven by the hope of finding you.

“Love, just remember you are never on your own,” Tangerine said, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

His words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, reminding you that no matter how lost or broken you felt, you had someone by your side who would never let you go.

[gingerteafairy]

𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧-𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

Isn't it funny when students make suppositions about their professors? Even more when the one in question is pregnant. Prime material for gossip.

tags n warnings: brief smut/mdni, professor!tangerine x fem!professor!reader, est. relationship, long term implied, pregnant!reader, suggestive ending, breeding kink, maybe grumpy x sunshine trope, language, saphiofilia, breast play, praise kink. word count: 1.4k masterlist

You and Tangerine had been in a stable relationship for a long time. He loved you more than anything in the world, so it was only natural for him to find it strange at first that you wanted to keep the relationship under wraps. The main reason? You were both professors at the same university.

It wasn’t necessarily wrong—there weren’t any rules prohibiting two professors from dating, especially in a setting full of adults who didn’t pay much attention to each other’s private lives. But for some reason, it felt off, almost sinful. And more than anything, what student wouldn’t love to gossip about the tough criminology professor with impossible exams dating the sweet pharmacology professor? It was prime material for gossip in the hallways.

But everything changed after the students started picking up on Tangerine’s frequent visits to your classroom to drop off food or let you know the car was unlocked in the parking lot: you were pregnant.

Pregnant.

Who would’ve thought this would happen after some months?

It wasn’t planned, but you were both adults and fully aware of the consequences of being so physically involved—with a damn creampie kink from both parts. You had stable jobs, loved each other, lived together in a cozy apartment. You just hadn’t anticipated the chuckles from students and the whispers in the hallways with wild theories that you two couldn’t help but find funny.

“I think the pharmacology professor’s been with him since high school.”

“I heard Tangerine has three kids, and they’ve been married for 17 years.”

“I heard she can’t even get pregnant, so Tangerine found a surrogate.”

The rumors became more absurd by the day, and you and Tangerine handled them with humor, laughing at the end of the day over what someone had overheard and passed on to you. You’d just smile and murmur, “These students are so creative… Wish they could be like this in class.” Tangerine, on the other hand, was more blunt, blurting out, “When I catch the mother fucker who spread that, i'll need a bloody lawyer to help me from the atrocities…” only to soften moments later—because, after all, he had you.

“Hey, love. Busy day?” Tangerine greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as he walked in, immediately shrugging off his jacket and dropping his bag onto the sofa.

“Not really… just a couple of morning classes and grading the senior exams,” you answered as you locked the door behind him and walked over for a lazy hug. “And you? You’re late.”

“Case study,” he replied, sliding his hands around your waist and carefully pulling you closer, mindful of your growing belly. “Incredible how those stupid assholes can’t interpret a simple paternity test.”

“Tan, they’re freshmen. They’re still getting the hang of it,” you teased, cupping his face with your hands and tracing his cheek with your thumbs. “But how are your other four wives doing?”

“They’re fine, along with our fifteen secret children,” he chuckled, his deep laughter filling the room before he leaned down to press a kiss against the crown of your head.

“Fifteen, huh?” You grinned, tilting your head up to meet his lips, the tickle of his mustache brushing against you.

“Fifteen. And all mine. Heard that one from the law students,” he said with a playful smirk, peppering your face with soft, lingering kisses.”think i have super sperm, apparently.”

“Oh, you do. I’m the living proof.” You flirted softly, biting your lip, standing on your tiptoes to give him a longer kiss. “think I wanna try more, babe.”

“Hey, be careful.” He whispered, shaking his head, moving his hands down your back to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh. “You know I have to hold back with you like this. Ever since I found out you were pregnant, I’ve been watching myself. You have three more months to go."

“Oh, c’mon. The baby can handle it.” You smiled, giving him another slow kiss, his lips melting on your tender mouth.

Tangerine’s hands went down to your ass cheeks, giving them a generous yet gentle squeeze, as he returned your touch. But once he felt his breathing get a little ragged, he pulled away, returning to the small peck.

“Don’t tease me.” He warned, pulling your lower lip between his teeth before sealing it. “I wanna be careful with our baby, 'kay?”

“Relax. There’s something surrounding him. He’s safe.” You comforted, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Besides… Having sex during pregnancy helps with labor, contractions with hormones and everything.”

“So it's like morphine. Liked that information…” he smiled slyly, swaying your bodies from side to side like a loving slow dance, lowering his hand to gently squeeze your breast, never intending to hurt. Gentle and soft, like your Tangerine. “You know I love helping, don’t you?”

“I love that about you so much.” you whispered, closing the space between you in another soft kiss, where your fingers drove up to unbutton his vest.

“Where did you learn about that?” he asked, taking the suit off his shoulders, followed by the open vest, his fingers working to remove the shirt underneath.

“What? Sex?” you asked, palming Tangerine’s bare chest, pulling the fabric of the shirt down his arms, brushing your finger on the muscles with him helping you along the way.

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, remembering the softness of your touch on his warm skin. Intending to feel yours, he pulled the dress over your head.

“Internet.” You answered simply, clicking your tongue, raising your arms to iron your clothes. He raised his eyebrow. “Just kidding. I was reading some articles about pregnancy. wanted to stay informed. Prevent some things, increase others...”

“Hmmmm… and what’s the explanation for sex?” He asked, now touching your breasts covered only by the thin bra in a more comfortable model to accommodate your breasts that grew as the months passed. “Fuck, you look so hot.”

You giggled, pretending to shove him by the arm, but you just squeezed his biceps, maybe a small excuse to feel those godly muscles a little bit more. After the brief appreciation, you direct him to the messy room. Papers, pens and formal clothes around the corner. Being a professor was more complicated than you expected.

Tangerine followed you, lazily getting rid of his pants as he watched you take off your small bra and throw it somewhere in the corner of the room with the other clothes. He sat on the edge of the bed—the only thing really tidy, grinning when he saw your figure standing up, fitting between his legs to continue the explanation as his head was buried in the swell of your breasts.

“Well, not all sex during pregnancy is safe, but I’ve been researching and going to the doctor…” You began, pausing a little to take a deeper breath when he gripped your thighs, his hands going up to grab your breasts again and place a small kiss on the hardened nipple. “My case is safe. It produces oxytocin, endorphins. Also, sperm has prostaglandins that help with contractions.”

“You sound so sexy saying these things. Love how fucking smart you are.” He praises, snaking his hands up to your hips to pull you closer. “You look so fucking good like this, love. So perfect… with our child. You’re so… fuck.”

“Are you saying that to get me?” You teased, bringing your hand to his thick brown hair, your spine shivering as you felt him kiss your belly.

“A little. I love the idea of fucking the teacher, you know?” He flirted, closing his eyes to feast on your lips once more before you straightened up and continued.

“Well, our baby is safe. Wrapped in his amniotic fluid, sleeping peacefully without any worries about life and job.” You continued, biting your lip as you felt Tangerine carefully take your breast in his mouth, sucking on the small spot, the cold beating the heat of his mouth, welcomed once more by his tongue. “He’s… fine.”

“So he won’t be surprised by, i dunno—His father’s fucking cock out of nowhere?” He laughed, but the concern was noticeable amidst the sarcasm. You couldn’t help but chuckle, going down to peck his face.

“No. Just mommy here.” You muttered almost like a spell to him as he lightly chuckled, wetting his lips.

“I love you.” He said firmly, in contrast to every dirty and highly scientific tease from before. It was pure, just like Tangerine’s love and the heart that beat between you both.

“I love you too.” You replied, kissing him calmly, with his caution, as if you would break with every simple rough touch under those calluses from your beloved Tangerine.

[dreameyess11]

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓛𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓸𝔂

Tangerine x Reader

You hear Tangerine’s voice from the next room, that smooth British accent you fell in love with long before you fell in love with him.

"Darling," he calls, the sound of it like music to your ears. "Where are you hiding now?"

You can't help but smile as you sit curled up on the sofa, a book in hand but hardly paying attention to the words on the page. You loved this little game, the way he made even mundane moments feel like a grand adventure.

“I’m not hiding,” you reply, raising your voice just enough for him to hear but still with a playful edge. “Maybe you’re just not looking hard enough.”

You hear the soft shuffle of his footsteps on the hardwood floor, deliberate and slow. “Ah, is that a challenge?”

Before you can respond, he appears in the doorway, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. The way he leans against the frame, the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—it sends a thrill through you.

"Found you," he says softly, his accent turning the simple phrase into something far more enchanting.

Your cheeks heat as you laugh, closing your book and setting it aside. “That didn’t take long. I was hoping you’d try harder.”

Tangerine crosses the room in a few strides and sits beside you, his hand brushing lightly against yours before he takes it, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your palm. “I don’t need to try hard when I know exactly where my favorite person always is.”

You look at him, trying not to let his words completely undo you, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. He leans closer, his voice dropping just slightly, low enough that it feels like a secret meant only for you.

“You like it when I talk, don’t you?” he teases, and his accent wraps around every syllable like a gift he knows you’ll never tire of unwrapping.

“Maybe,” you reply, pretending to play coy even as your heart races.

He grins, leaning in just enough that his forehead brushes yours. “You’re a terrible liar,” he murmurs, his voice warm and soft, the kind of sound that lingers in your chest long after it’s gone.

And then he kisses you—slow, tender, and filled with all the love he doesn’t even need to say because you already know it’s there. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes your cheek, and he smiles, that signature smile you can’t help but adore.

“Did I tell you I love you today?” he asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, though you know he has, in a hundred different ways.

“Well then,” he says, that accent melting into the words like honey, “I love you more than words could ever say. But I’ll happily keep trying to prove it.”

And with him, you know he always will.

[amorchai]

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏.

this is a repost from my old blog. original post was 8,476 notes.

pairing(s): tangerine x female!reader

words: 1106

warnings/tags: established relationship, female!reader, cussing, slang, mention of a gun.

the search for his keys grow more frustrating and unnecessarily difficult with his own brother chirping in his ear beside him. the loud noise of the keyrings clanking against each other and lemon complaining about the blood on his new tie, tangerine curses the number of keyrings you insist to have, swallowing the key from his grasp.

“will you shut the fuck up? for one minute, man? can’t think straight with your yapping blasting my fucking eardrum!” lemon’s sentence falls short when tangerine snaps, waving his hand dismissively to his brother from behind him.

“i hope you don’t act like that in front of your girl, no?” lemon replies lowly, tangerine tutting as he dwells in the quieter nature. his fingers fumble and finally touch the key to unlock his front door, seconds away from seeing the one person he’s missed the most.

tangerine doesn’t respond to his sentence, sending his brother a look as they enter the opening of his house. kicking off his shoes and nudging off his jacket, tangerine looks to lemon, “you’re lucky i’m letting you sleep here tonight, keep it up and i’ll give you a nice blanket for our fucking doorstep, yeah?”

lemon swings his jacket off his shoulders, clumsily placing it upon the rack which tilts and hits the wall. he cringes, slowly moving it back into place before turning back to his brother who gives him the silent stare.

an ‘are you fucking serious?’ type look which is carried on with his thick accent through, “nah, it’s fine. it’s only three in the fucking morning! course she won’t be asleep, so carry on, bastard.” tangerine’s sarcasm is hinted through his whispered shout, face scrunches with closed fists tightening by his side.

“well if that didn’t wake y/n, your shouting outta do it, brother.” tangerine inhales deeply, trying to control himself before calmly replying with a small, “just get through here, will ya?”. lemon follows tangerine through to the living-room.

the entire house is in darkness except from the low stream of the television, emitting a cold and blue-hued light across the large living-room. “what’s this doing on, eh?” tangerine mutters to himself, a random episode of friends played on the channel which he doesn’t hesitate to click off.

the room turns to pitch black after the television clicks off, the lonely stream of moonlight catching the floorboards through the tiny cracks of the semi-closed blinds. the large window covered. instead, tangerine walks towards the end of the sofa where a lamp lays on the table beside.

he jumps out his skin with a low ‘fuck me! jesus christ!’ when his eyes land on a figure atop the couch. however, tangerine’s expression quickly changes into a softer nature, hand which held his chest in fright drops once he notices who it is.

lemon, who stands behind the sofa, moves his hand away from the gun hiding in his holster from the sudden fright and watches as tangerine places a small smile on his face and walks towards the other end of the sofa.

you lay under a stream of blankets, head atop the array of cushions to make you look cosier than ever. your mouth agape and fingers weakly hold the top hem of the blanket while you sleep, failing from staying up for your boyfriend’s return.

“scared the fuck outta me, love, hm?” tangerine whispers sweetly as he kneels down in front of your figure, a hand reaching up to soothe over your cheek which feels softer and warmer than normal. he can’t help but indulge in the feeling of you back in arm’s length, weeks on a life-threatening job feeling significantly longer as he thought he may never see your face again.

you looked safe and sound, simply well-rested and content which made tangerine’s heart swell at the idea of how easily you trust your man, knowing he would be home and that you won’t ever be in harm’s way. and he would die making sure of that.

“hate to interrupt the reunion, but she’s in my bed for the night.”

normally, tangerine would sigh, normally he would roll his eyes, yell and even swear within every sentence. but the mere feeling of your cheek so soft and the gentle hit of your breath against his wrist, tangerine grin widens while he moves to stand.

“shut the fuck up, will ya?” his sentence sounding annoyed but tangerine far from it while his eyes don’t move from your face, bending forward to move the blankets from you and lift you up and into his large arms.

you squirm at the cold english weather hitting your pyjama-covered state, lulling you out your deep sleep while feeling the warm frame of tangerine’s chest against your arm. “shh, go to sleep, love. i’m home, we’re going to bed,” tangerine starts before you even have a chance to open your eyes.

stopping at the bottom of the steps, he looks to his brother, “bed all set… sweet dreams, darling.” lemon grunts and shakes his head at his brother’s usual sarcasm behind his happy tone, looking down to the warm couch while tangerine guides you both up the stairs.

you grin widely through your tired eyes when you see your boyfriend back in front of you, always scared you might have to hear he won’t come back from his next job. tangerine looks back down to you when you cup his face, saying his name with the happiest smile you could muster in the extra early hours of the morning.

“up for a cuddle in bed, my love?” he flinches when your thumb accidentally pokes his moustache, your thumb gently soothing over it as an apology when you reply, “i always am.” tangerine shakes his head to himself at the sight of you back in front of him, back in his arms and ready to be right up until the next job.

he doesn’t understand his luck. how did a sad little man, intolerant and angry who kills for a living able to find such a kind-heated soul ready to love him in ways he never knew he wanted until you came along. but you saw him for who he was, irretrievably loyal and loving in his own ways.

“i fuckin’ love you, do y’know that?” tangerine asks, stopping at the end of your shared bed as he awaits your answer. you kiss the corner of his mouth, so soft and light but enough to make his head dizzy and knees weak while he chases your lips for a proper kiss in return.

“good thing that i love you then. more than anyone.”

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒛𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏

🍓the strawberry shack masterlist🍓

summary - tangerine treats himself at the strawberry shack.

warning - smut, oral, gloryhole, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Tangerine had just finished a job and he felt good. He felt like he was walking on cloud 9 and he felt like he deserved a treat. A cigarette dangled loosely between his lips as he headed to the one place that he knew would give him just that. Tangerine smirked up at the glowing pink sign that read ‘The Strawberry Shack’. If he could, he’d spend all of his pay here, which wouldn’t be a stretch from what he seems to spend now. 

He took one last puff of his cigarette before flicking it onto the sidewalk and walked in, a giant grin on his face as he slapped down a wad of cash on the receptionist's desk. “Hello, Darlin’. Is my favourite girl in?” 

The woman hums, grabbing the money. “Of course she is, you can go right through. She’ll be happy to hear from you again, you’re one of her favourite customers.” She gives him a wink as she finishes her sentence.

Tangerine smirks, walking straight through the door and towards you. It wasn’t hard to find you, you had the prettiest set up out of all the women here. He stops in front of your hole, already unzipping his pants and tugging his hard cock out. “How’s my favourite cockslut doing?” 

You moan, leaning against the wall, already ready to take his cock in your mouth. “I’ve been good, Sir. I missed your cock though.” 

Tangerine grunts, sliding his cock through the hole and immediately into your mouth. “That’s a good girl. This is why you’re my favourite.” You hum around his cock, taking him deeper as your tongue swirls around it. Tangerine moans, resting his hand on the wall while the other reaches down and fondles his balls. 

Your head bobs back and forth, taking him deeper and lubricating his cock with your spit as you continue. You pull back, keeping his tip in your mouth as you pay special attention to it, you let out a small moan, enjoying how his cock twitches from the vibrations. You begin to suck and lick his tip, swiping your tongue against his slit before taking him all the way in again. 

“Fuck! Oh my fucking god! You always give me the best head, Love.” His hips thrust forward, enjoying the slurping sounds coming from your mouth as you suck him harder. He grunts, feeling his orgasm already approaching. “Fuck, Love. I’m going to cum.” 

You hum, bobbing your head faster as you suck him harder, wanting to taste him. 

Tangerine throws his head back as his hips stutter, his cock twitching like crazy as cum pours out of his tip, filling your mouth with thick loads. When he finishes, he groans and pulls his cock out of the hole, tucking it back into his pants. “Thank you, Love. You’re a fuckin’ dream.” 

You swallow his cum and then smile to yourself at his words. “Hopefully you won’t keep me waiting so long next time, Sir.” 

“Course not. Next time I’m planning on filling you up until you’re full and dripping, so be ready.” He bids his goodbyes and walks out of the building, the grin never leaving his face as he heads home.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[eternalslover]

Bullet train incorrect quotes:

Tangerine: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Y/n: Sure!

Y/n: Whats your favorite color?

Tangerine, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you love me?

[lenacosse]

not to be dramatic but this interview saved my life

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

FAVOURITISM. [PART ONE]

tangerine x fem!reader

wc. 1956 summary. tangerine was put out of work following the events of an accident. as a result, he created his own business, applying all of his knowledge. you work as a secretary cross technical assistant for him and working very closely to the big bad boss catches the eyes of your peers. one day he notices a change in your workwear — proving to you, he’s been paying a lot more attention than you originally thought. boss x secretary. disclaimer. the images at the bottom are just a reference of what I picture the reader wearing. they are not a reflection of how I write or see yn (colour and body type) it’s merely a way to show you what I envisioned

MY 2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY! it’s only right that I write for tan seeing as it all started with him xx also a big big loving thank you to @pretty-little-mind33 for the idea and brainstorming with me. literally would not have done this without her <33

SERIES MASTERLIST

⎯ ☆ ⎯

It wasn’t often that you’d find yourself not looking forward to work — feeling anxious to get in. Your love for what you do always seeming to overshadow any discomfort.

For the last several months, you’ve been working as a technical assistant cross secretary for your boss, Tangerine. No one knew of his real name, and you were starting to think that’s the way it’ll always be. 

Last night after your shift, you were brought to HR for an unexpected meeting, being called up on a dress code violation. Multiple complaints made around the office about your bright tights and flowy shirts, being told that it was ‘unfit for work’ and a ‘distraction.’ You knew you weren’t exactly well liked around the office — the sneers and scowls made your way making that evident. But never did you think they would go so far out of their way to complain about you. 

Their dislike for you felt territorial — judgy eyes always seeming to follow you as you attend to the needs and wants of your boss. The attention you gain from the broody, grumpy man in charge, simply asks and tasks you agreed to in your job description. The repetitive calls for your name only ever consisting of tea requests or computer help. It left you feeling confused and isolated, constantly wondering why they hated you so much. You were only ever doing your job. Doing what was asked of you. 

So, as you sit in your car before the start of the workday, you use your spare few moments to collect yourself, preparing for those same judgemental stares. You look down at your legs briefly, noticing the lack of colour — your usual patterned tights now being replaced with grey, drab trousers. All of your vibrancy and exuberancy —personality— stolen when told to make this change. 

You exhale, giving yourself one last second of sanity before you’re getting out of the car, juggling your bags and cups of coffee in hand. Stepping into the building and into the elevator with a small crowd, you become invisible, blending in with everyone — becoming what you’ve always dreaded: a lifeless office zombie, sharing the same apathetic, dull expression with all those around you. 

You reach your floor and exit with the few remaining others in the lift. You deviate from your colleagues and head for your bosses office at the back, giving his door a couple of knocks. 

“Yeah?” he calls out, and you slowly push the door open.

His usual rigged, intimidating gaze softens as his eyes fall on you through the gap, his attention landing on you over the top of his computer.

“You’re late,” he says, the words a reprimand for most, but for you they were more of an observation — a casual, flyaway statement. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Traffic was a nightmare,” you apologise as you step into his office, avoiding his eyes like you were ashamed. 

You look down to the coffees in hand and pass him the one without the lipstick mark, extending an arm as you move to stand beside his desk.

“Don’t worry about it. It happens,�� he reassures. And as he takes the cup from your hold, he glances down, noticing the lack of your familiar flamboyance. “What’re you wearing?”

You look down confused, brows pulling together as if to show you didn’t understand his question.

“The trousers,” he looks up at you, gaze almost harsh. “Why're you wearing them?” 

He has never seen you wear trousers.

“Thought I’d shake things up,” you shrug with your lie, not wanting him to know the real reason.

You didn’t want to give your peers more reason to hate you by tattling to the boss — complaining about them being mean to you, so you decided against it, keeping him from the truth. Though it’s far harder than you anticipated, his eyes ever so demanding as he remains fixed on you above. 

“So no smiley face is also part of you shaking things up?” he questions, showing you the blank cup — your usual sharpie smileys nowhere to be seen. 

You wince slightly, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. You weren’t sure if the embarrassment was from the fact he noticed or that you forgot. But humiliation was felt either way.

“It’ll save us the ballache if you tell me why,” he takes a sip of his drink and places it aside, giving you his full attention. “I can call a staff meeting, but I reckon they’ll get suspicious after seeing us talk,” he playfully blackmails, offering you a faint smile to show you his bribe holds no such malice.

You turn and look out through the window of his office, picking up on dozens of sets of eyes glued to you through the gap of his blinds. All of which briskly turn away upon the glance of Tangerine, his eyeline following yours — scaring your peers back into work.

“What’d they do?” he asks, redirecting your focus back to him.

“I just got a complaint, that’s all,” you shrug, trying to minimise it as much as possible.

“Why?” he asks bluntly, neck craning to keep your eyes on him.

“They don’t like the way I dress apparently,” you laugh faintly, the noise sounding far more hurt than you intended. “I mean I get it,” you deflect, trying not to slip into a habit of seeking him for assurance when people in the office turn against you. “I get what they mean.”

He’s quiet as he looks over you, head shaking disapprovingly as he mumbles something incoherent. He inhales deeply and then coughs to clear his throat, sounding like he was preparing for something. 

“I gotta meet with some people, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says as he stands, reaching for his briefcase. “Don’t let these miserable lot get to you,” he smiles weakly as he collects his coffee cup, heading towards the door until he stops, and turns around to face you. “They hate that I don’t hate you, that’s all.” 

Your eyes follow after him as he leaves his office, leaving you standing there alone to process his words. You’ve never really picked up on the hinted favouritism like your colleagues have — never seeming to notice the allowances and kindness your peers aren’t granted with. But you were only ever doing as told, why would that warrant any special treatment? 

And with that thought in mind, you head towards your desk just outside of his office, setting your things on your neatly, organised table. Placing your hot drink in his designated spot besides your computer, you log on — attending to emails and to things on your extensive to do list.

A few hours pass you by.

You’re interrupted from all work when you feel the presence of someone standing behind you, your boss now back from his meeting with a pile of papers in hand.

“Need you to sort these out for me,” he says as places the stack beside your hand. “Please,” he adds, trying to keep up with the habit he’s trying to enforce by showing his appreciation. But only to you.

You look down to the pile, noticing a gap in between the blank, plain papers. You look up at him briefly, like you were asking permission and then your eyes fall back onto the stack. And as you go to lift the upper chunk of papers, Tangerine is moving from you and into his office, a new bag —a shopping bag— held within the hand of his briefcase. You take little to no notice and turn your attention back to the pile, a square paper bag hiding within the fake forms. The perfect cloak of disguise. 

You didn’t need to look inside to know what it was, the warm circle giving it away immediately. It was a cookie. You swivel in your chair to look into his office, his eyes already on you through the gap in his blinds. The gap you’re now starting to believe holds another purpose. You smile at him sweetly, mouthing thanks before resuming with your work — wanting to get it all done before the end of the day.

And as five pm soon rolls around and as everyone begins logging off and packing up for home, you turn to look back at Tangerine, a pained expression on his face as he rolls his shoulder. His old injury you know very little about seeming to give him grief.  

The floor begins to clear and you collect your things, walking those few steps until you’re in front of your boss's door. You give it a light tap and enter when welcomed.

“You off?” he asks, turning his attention to you in his doorframe. 

“Yep,” you smile, lingering for a moment. “Thank you for the cookie, by the way.”

“It’s alright,” he gently smiles, head bowing almost bashfully. “Hang on and I’ll walk you out. Don’t want you out in the dark by yourself.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you deflect, not wanting to be a bother. “Really it’s okay, my car is only outside.”

He shakes his head at you as he gives his desk a quick tidy, packing things up for the night. Tangerine stands and collects his belongings, picking up his coat from the rack and small bag from the side before he’s heading to you, guiding you along. 

You each walk towards the open elevators and head in, standing side by side —close— within the confined space. 

He twists inwards to face you. “I uh,” he starts, extending the shopping bag from earlier to you. “I picked something up for you.”

Your brows tug in the middle, looking up at him like you were questioning the reasoning why. You take it from his hand and look inside. 

“No,” you whisper, sheer disbelief in your voice as you pull out the gift. “These are beautiful! Where did you even find them?” you question, looking over the tights, marvelling at the pattern. 

He keeps his head cast downwards, looking between his feet as he smiles, appreciating your appreciation. “It’s a secret.”

The elevator dings, cutting your time short and you both look at each other, the glance brief. He holds his arm out, gesturing for you to step off first,  and you do. You linger, waiting for him to join so you could walk besides one another. 

The walk towards your car is slow, as if both of you are trying to savour the short journey, hang on to it. Small chuckles and shy, stolen glances being the only form of communication during your minute long walk.

You reach into your bag and pull out your keys to unlock your car, the dozen chains and charms jingling and clattering with the movement of your hand. 

Tangerine reaches for your door, pulling the handle to open it for you — nodding you inside. You smile at him sweetly as you get in, placing your bags on the passenger seat. 

“You get home safe, alright?” he says, grinning softly.

“I will,” you look down coyly, smile faint.

He nods once. “Good.”

“See you monday?” 

“Mhm-hm,” he hums, expression gentle as he goes to close your door. “Have a good weekend,” he says before shutting you inside.

You exhale shakily within the quiet sanctuary of your car, the lack of noise allowing your mind to run rampant with repeats from the last few minutes. You glance down to your gift, trying to process it all until your eyes land on the tag — his name, his real name squiggled on the note.

The favouritism you’ve struggled to notice becomes as clear as day. Every interaction from the past now being thought of differently as you look back on it all. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

in my mind she’s very penelope garcia/ louisa clark/ jessica day/ phoebe buffay coded (more so in dress sense) she’s cute and i love her

[ PART TWO ]

[arkethamz]

not cringetober bc i was busy today

but i did get a doodle done for 40 years of thomas the tank engine <3

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[sebsbarnes]

confessions || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: "you're beautiful you know that love," tangerine said softly as if the declaration was a secret that only the space between you could know.

warnings: mention of a gun, injuries, blood

word count: 1.1k ; fluff

tangerine masterlist

you jolted awake, "what the hell," you mumbled.

eyes half open you patted around on the bed for your phone. the blaringly bright picture of a sunset staring back at you.

4:07am.

the noise that woke you up sounded again. banging at your front door. carefully you slipped out of bed and opened the drawer to your nightstand, grabbing the gun. slowly, you walked through the house creeping towards the door. the house felt eerily quiet more so than ever. the gun was held behind your back and before you could turn the doorknob you hear a voice.

"it's me."

you opened the door, "why are- jesus christ tangerine."

he smiled weakly at you, sort of shrugging, the suit jacket draped over his arm moving with.

"hey, love," he said dejectedly.

his typically smoothed back hair showed no sign of gel as his curls were a mess. the fitted suit that adorns his body was now loose with blood splattered sporadically on the fabric. the button-down shirt rolled up on his arms exposed his battered forearms. there was dirt on parts of his face, dried blood across his cheek and forehead, and a split lip.

"come in," you whispered, grabbing his hand pulling him in.

you locked the door and turned to the kitchen with tangerine still in tow. you turned the lights on in the kitchen, grabbing him water and pain reliever.

"eat these if you need something. i'm going to grab the first aid kit, alright?" you placed a box of crackers next to him on the counter and retreated to a hallway closet. when you came back, he was munching on a few and the glass of water in his other hand.

"okay now, what's the worst?"

"some prick got me in the thigh with glass," he grimaced gesturing to the torn trousers. you leaned in gently placing your hands on his thigh around the cut.

"take your pants off."

"well, that's quite forward love now, innit?" tangerine chuckled softly.

all you could do was roll your eyes as you turned around giving him a moment to hop off the counter and remove his pants. when you turned back around you couldn't help but swallow harshly at the man's muscular thighs.

"there's still bits of glass in this babes, i'm gonna have to take it out," tangerine hummed in response, clearly tired from whatever job he just came back from.

you grabbed a pair of tweezers and removed small pieces of glass left inside the wound and all tangerine could do was hiss in response. the wound was then cleaned and after tangerine gave you the greenlight, he let you stitch him up.

"now don't go fuckin' around you hear me. that's a good stitch," you said pointing at the finished product.

"yeah whatever darlin'," tangerine retorted.

you moved up to his face to clean the dirt and blood off him. you slid between his legs to get closer, fingertips accidently brushing over his thigh as you grabbed the rag next to him on the counter. you didn't notice the goosebumps that sprang to life on his skin and raced throughout his body. your lips were slightly pursed as the rag glided across his cheeks, wiping away the evidence of an earlier job.

tangerine couldn't help but stare at you during your concentration. the way your eyes danced across his face inspecting every minute detail. your eyelashes- god since when were they that long? he couldn't help the tiny smile that etched its way onto his lips hearing the small whistle your nose made as you breathed in and out. it was something you mentioned in passing that you hated, after your nose was broken on a job. small freckles decorated the bridge of your nose, and a now almost faded scar followed the curve of your cheekbone.

"you're beautiful you know that love," tangerine said softly as if the declaration was a secret that only the space between you could know.

you faltered slightly. you and tangerine were friends. any compliments thrown each other's way was typically about work. you often worked with the twins on jobs so the three of you were close. the dynamics on and off the job the three of you had was truly incredible. many people wanted the trio because they knew the job would be a success, most likely bloody, but still successful.

to even try and deny the fact that tangerine is gorgeous was absolutely ridiculous. when you first saw him, you truly went breathless for a moment. there was no way this man was in the business of killing was one of your first thoughts, he had to be a model of some sort. and as if his looks weren't enough, when he wasn't being a complete dickhead, he had the most charming and witty personality. it was intimidating being around him most times, the feeling of insecurity often loomed around you when he was nearby.

you looked him in the eye before averting your attention to his split lip, "why didn't you go home?"

"found myself wandering this way," he said slipping off the counter.

"bit far from your house," you whispered in return. tangerine brushed a strand of hair out of your eye, his thumb running over your cheek.

"no distance is too far for you, darlin'."

you aren't quite sure where these confessions were coming from, but you would be a fool to say you hated it. it was obvious how you felt about tangerine. you knew it, he knew it, lemon knew it, damn near everyone knew it.

"i didn't know you could be a sap," you gave him a slight smirk.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, "today was too risky, thought i could solo it, make some extra money. it was stupid. all i could think about was you," he confessed.

you toyed with the gold chain hanging on his exposed chest before gently tugging on it, bringing him to you. the kiss was soft but long. in the midst of the kiss tangerine had placed you on the counter, finding home between your legs and holding your waist carefully. your hands situated on the base of his skull tugging ever so slightly on his hair. tangerine's mouth parted slightly in reaction allowing you to bite gently on his lip, ignoring the fact you can taste blood. with a sigh you both finally pulled apart. his hands never left your waist.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you said.

tangerine wasted no time scooping you up in his arms, ignoring all the aches from today's job. 'i've waited months to hear these words,' he had muttered in your hair making his way through your house.

"i've waited just as long."

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine has always chosen her over you, until he doesn't anymore.

Genre: angst and fluff

Warnings: Lemon, Tangerine, and reader are in their early twenties, toxic relationship, swearing, violence, men (the gross kind), body/weight insecurities, cheating, intoxication

~ based on a conversation i had with my wife @little-miss-dilf-lover and lightly inspired by Dial Drunk by Noah Kahn ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

It was midnight when you heard the sharp knocks on your apartment door. You knew your roommate was already asleep so you quickly pad out of your bedroom and through the living room, rubbing your sleepy eyes as you open the door a sliver and peer out into the corridor. You see Lemon first, a sympathetic look painted across his features as he holds up an extremely drunk Tangerine.

Tangerine's face is covered in bruises, the skin around his eye is slowly turning purple and you see the blood on his knuckles as he flexes his hands. Your eyes widen and you hurry out into the hall, your bare feet against the harsh carpet as you quietly shut the door behind you. "What happened?" you whisper, worried for him. Tangerine just grunts, his eyes glossy. 

He's been crying. 

Lemon groans and holds his brother higher, looking at you knowingly. As if he knows the news will somehow break your heart. You stare at him, as if to say 'cut the bullshit' because you want to see if it has something to do with Macey—which it probably does.

Tangerine and Macey have been dating on and off for years. Since high school she's had him wrapped around her pinky, his head a lust-filled mess that very quickly turned into full-blown puppy-love. She'd always be the one to dump him and he'd always come back because he loved her so much. It was an endless cycle that lasted until now, your junior year of university. 

You hate her. You have never hated anyone as much as you hate Macey Addams. 

You hate her silky ginger hair, the way her dark eyes contrast Tangerine's blue ones so well, and that fake smile she reserves for you when you see her. You hate how she laughs, how she talks, and how she looks in those skin-tight dresses Tangerine loves so much.  

You hate her.

You hate how you're not her. 

"Ran into some 'friends' from high school at the bar," Lemon says, emphasizing the word friends with a grunt, "Said some things this dick didn't like so he had to start a fucking bar fight, like some fucking criminal. All because of some bird who doesn't want nothin' to do with you anymore, mate," Lemon scolds Tangerine, who slouches against the wall and slides down, holding his head in his arms. 

"Someone called the coppers and I had to bail him out."

Your eyes widen and you run a hand in your messy hair, kneeling in front of Tangerine as you look up at Lemon. "Really?"

Lemon nods and removes his hand from Tangerine's shoulder. He walks away further down the hall, shaking his head as he groans. Lemon's mumbling curses under his breath and so is Tangerine, only his sound sadder than his brother. 

"Hey," you whisper, "Tan?"

His arms attach themselves to your waist, holding you close as he sobs. You sigh, resting your hand on his head as you let him hold you. Sometimes you'd find yourself being bitter, because why does he love Macey so much when you've always been here for him? 

You'd gift him the moon if you could, but instead, you're stuck being just this—his best friend.

Not that you're complaining. 

"Y/n?" he asks a while later as you both sit on the floor of your room, having managed to sneak him quietly through the living room. You're nursing frozen peas to his knuckles as he leans his head against your bed. Knowing Tangerine was in good hands, Lemon had gone home. 

You hum, looking at him. 

"If I could choose who I was in love with," he begins, his intoxication still obvious only he's slowly sobering up. He blinks slowly, finding his words, "I'd choose you."

You look into his blue eyes you'd normally want to drown yourself in and your heart shatters. He means well, you know this. Plus, how is he supposed to know you're actually madly in love with him when you've never told him?

However, the words hurt like hell knowing his love for Macey is almost otherworldly. He speaks of it like a chemical reaction he has no control over and you're simply the choice. Something mundane and easier. 

You turn your head and quickly wipe a tear from your cheek so he doesn't see. You look at him again and strain a smile. 

"I'd choose you too, Tan."

* * *

Four months later, although sometimes you would find him lost in thoughts of her, she was mostly a distant memory and your feelings for Tangerine have been successfully repressed.  

The pub is extra crowded this evening and you slither your way through people to where your date is. His name is Adrien, which is a respectable name. He's handsome enough if not a little boring. You order your drinks and then the conversation turns sour. 

"I mean, females need to watch their crabs, y'know. You should really order a salad," Adrien pushes the menu across the table, his voice calm like he'd just called the sky blue. You frown, cheeks warm as you cross an arm over your stomach, feeling insecure in your dress. 

"Females?" you repeat in disbelief that a man like this exists.

He doesn't answer. The waiter comes with the wine and you gulp yours down in one go.

In hindsight you should have left the moment Adrien opened his mouth, but something inside you embarrassingly craved any form of affection up until he tried to kiss you outside the pub, and when you pushed him away for the second time, he called you an ugly bitch and stormed off. 

Your lip wobbles as you stare at the lamppost, your hand clutching your purse strap so hard it hurts. You sniffle and fumble with your phone, texting the one person you know won't hesitate to come pick you up. You really don't want to walk home.

Minutes later, his car screeches in front of the pub and he opens the door from the driver's side, looking at you with a concerned expression as you climb in, buckling yourself. "Thanks," you mutter. 

"S'no problem, poppet," Tangerine says, sending you a sideways look as he starts the car again, shifting the gear as he drives off. You sink into the expensive leather seats and look out the window. You sniffle again, still holding an arm over your stomach. 

You keep hearing Tangerine's ringtone. Someone's bombarding him with texts. You turn, catching a glimpse of the contact's name as she calls him up again. The screen flashes her name. Mae. Macey. Tangerine turns his phone over in the center console, turning off the sound as he focuses on the road.

You look at him, your frown momentarily distracting you from how watery your eyes have become from the evening events. "Don't you want to answer?" you whisper. You know Tangerine would usually jump at an opportunity for her attention. This time, his jaw clenches and he shakes his head. 

"Rude to answer the phone when you're with someone, innit?" he says, looking at you briefly. "Are ya okay, love?" he asks, his tone softer now. 

You're a little surprised he's putting you over Macey but you relish in it.

You shrug. "Hm, bad date," you say. 

Tangerine's nose scrunches and his hands tighten on the wheel. "Did something happen?"

"If you count him being a jerk who thought it was normal to comment on my food choice on the first date, then yeah." You roll your eyes and look out the window again, blinking rapidly not to cry. You cross your other arm across your stomach as you instinctively suck in.

Tangerine catches the movement and his frustration boils. "You look beautiful," he says and places his hand on your knee. "Don't," he whispers, waiting for you to relax your poor stomach. You do it with a sigh and you're silent the rest of the car ride.

Once you're back home, Tangerine agrees to stay the night to keep you company after such a horrible experience. It really isn't smart, considering your heart latches on to him immediately, and it is only sent plummeting when just before your eyes flutter shut to sleep, you hear Tangerine's muffled voice in your bathroom, her name on his tongue.   

Of course, he'd called her back. 

* * *

Six months later Lemon is throwing a housewarming party for him and his fiancée, Liv. You'd decide to bring your boyfriend of three months. Unbeknownst to you, Tangerine also had invited a plus one neither you nor Lemon approved of. 

"Y/n/n!" her shrill voice calls over the music as you turn, your champagne almost falling from your hand as you see her. Her fiery red hair is cut shorter but it's as pretty as ever as she drops Tangerine's arm and skips over, pulling you into a hug. "I've missed you." Macey's tone is sweet, almost as if you'd been best friends for years. 

You see Tangerine handing Lemon his and Macey's coat, whispering something to his brother who sends him a dirty look. Macey continues to hug you and then introduces herself to your boyfriend Charlie. You don't miss how Charlie's gaze flickers to her breasts in her navy skin-tight dress. Macey smiles sweetly at him.

You feel sick. 

You excuse yourself and find Tangerine in the kitchen as he looks for a drink. "Macey? Really? You're a fucking puppy wrapped around her finger," you spit, slightly drunk from the champagne and frustrated from the situation.

Tangerine rolls his eyes. "She's changed. We're good now."

"You sound so stupid," you accuse, walking over and shoving his shoulder in an attempt to knock some sense into him. He grunts and steadies you with his hands as he frowns. 

"You're sloshed, Y/n."

You shake your head and push his hand away, eyes lidded. "You fucking tell your girl to keep her dirty mitts away from my boyfriend then!" Tangerine's anger rises as he hates what you're implying just as much as you do. 

"She's not like that," he argues and you scoff, turning around to storm off into the living room again. 

"Not anymore," Tangerine calls but you ignore him. 

An hour or two later, after some rounds of charades and sneaking glances you wish you hadn't seen between Charlie and Macey, you're even drunker. Lemon is beginning to worry as Liv insists you have more water. You don't know what you hate more, that your current boyfriend keeps looking at another woman, or how said woman keeps playing with Tangerine's tie as she sits curled up in his lap. 

You think it's all in your drunken mind when you stumble into the backyard and see Charlie with his hand under Macey's dress, her leg wrapped around his hip as they kiss passionately. They're probably fueled by liquor and lust but it doesn't matter, the dam breaks and you turn around, stumbling inside, alerting them to your presence. You're crying as you slam your head into someone's hard chest. 

"Woah. Bloody hell," Tangerine frowns and looks at you. He's probably the only sober person here. He's been fully sober for more than half a year now.  His hand comes up to your cheek immediately as he pads at your tears. "Love, what happened?"

You don't answer him, only sobbing more as you push by him and rush into the upstairs bathroom. Charlie stumbles inside, buttoning up his shirt and he makes uncomfortable eye contact with Tangerine. He stops cold, clears his throat, and nods his head at him before he rushes up the stairs after you. 

Tangerine's stomach drops. He takes a calming breath and puts his hands in his pockets as he walks outside and sees Macey adjusting her dress and wiping the sides of her mouth, where her mauve lipstick had smudged.

She turns to him, her voice still as she says calmly, "I can explain, T." She doesn't sound remorseful in any way, a clear indication that he's been letting her walk all over him. 

He takes another breath and walks to her, his demeanor just as calm and Macey's expression falters. Usually, this would rile him up and she loved the adrenaline she received from calming him down and taming him. This? This was new.

"It's one thing to hurt me," Tangerine drawls, staring at her with a cold gaze. "It's another to hurt her."

Macey frowns. "Who? Y/n? Who cares—"

"I care," he interrupts and takes Macey's chin in his hand, not tightening enough to hurt her, just to scare her. "You went too far this time and I should have never given you another chance. This? Us? We should have ended years ago."

He releases her and Macey's eyes widen. "Tangerine,"

"Get out." He says sternly and turns around, adding in a harsh tone, "And lose my fuckin' number."

Tangerine hears Charlie banging on the bathroom door the moment he enters the house again and his fists clench. He strides upstairs and pulls on your boyfriend's shoulder, feeling him jump as he looks at Tangerine. "Ya think ya haven't done enough?"

Charlie opens his mouth to protest but hearing Tangerine, you open the door just a little and peek outside, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes and a mess of snot under your nose. Tangerine's gaze softens when you sniffle. 

"Tan," you whisper. 

Charlie puts his hand on the door and attempts to pry it open. "Y/n!" He sounds urgent but Tangerine shoves him away, sending him a glare as he lets himself into the small bathroom and locks the door behind him again. 

You're inconsolable now as you cry violently. As angry as you are with Tangerine for bringing her, you need him now. You grasp his shirt and rest your forehead on his chest, shaking. Tangerine is as mad at himself as you are, maybe even more so. He wraps his arms around you and inhales the scent of your shampoo as he kisses your head repeatedly. 

"Darlin'," he whispers, his voice hoarse, "I'm so sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

He hears another annoying sharp knock from Charlie again and instantly bangs his heel against the door, startling you a little but he holds you tighter and barks. 

"Piss the fuck off, twat."

The knocking ends. 

* * *

An hour later, Tangerine has you sitting on Lemon and Liv's kitchen counter as they clean up from the party. He hands you some water as he rolls up his sleeves. One of his hands finds your thigh and he rubs it soothingly. You look up at him from behind your glass, unable to resist the question.  

"Is there something wrong with me?"

Tangerine's forehead pinches and pulls his hand away so he can cup your cheeks instead. He stands in between your legs, his eyes level with yours as they search your features. "Pardon? Say that again."

"What does she have that I don't? Is she prettier than me? Does she have a better body? I- I want to be wanted like her," you sniffle, your words slurred as you're still very intoxicated no matter how much water you've drank. Your cheeks are damp from your tears. "Why does she take every man I like? Why did she take you from me when I loved you damn so much?"

Tangerine's heart leaps at your words. "Loved me?" he repeats, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod and look into his eyes. "Love," you admit, "For years—and it never stops either and I tried. I tried, Tan."

You sound so sad.

His hand shakes on your cheek and for a moment you think he's leaning in to kiss you as your eyes flutter, but instead, he crushes you into a hug. You relax in his arms, shutting your eyes fully as you whimper and the sound hits him hard. 

He'd been such an idiot. 

"I would kiss ya," he whispers, sounding sincere, "I'd kiss ya if ya weren't so damn drunk."

You're speechless. 

Liv walks in, holding an armful of paper towels with Lemon on her heels. She smiles when Tangerine shifts away from you, clearing his throat, and you try to look busy, your head spinning from Tangerine's previous words. Lemon raises an eyebrow at his brother and Tangerine communicates with his eyes. Lemon chuckles.

"G'night, lovebirds," he grins as Liv puts away the paper towels and smirks too, slapping Lemon's arm playfully.

Tangerine's cheeks burn crimson all the way up to his ears. 

Once they're gone he turns his attention to you again, looking at you fondly. "I've been a real fuckin' prick, haven't I?" he says and pushes some hair behind your ear. "Lookin' at 'er, when what I wanted was right here in front of me this whole damn time."

You blink at him, his words sinking in but you're too drunk to comprehend. 

Tangerine kisses your forehead. "I'll make it up to you," he says, his chest filling with warmth. It's a promise. One he keeps because when you wake up in Lemon's guest room, Tangerine walks in shirtless with a breakfast tray full of an assortment of toast, beans, and eggs. 

"Monrin' love," he says. He's wearing that familiar smile. A peaceful, happy, smile. The one you haven't seen him wear in a while. 

Damn does it look good on him.     

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

[embracehatr3d]

Saw this when I was looking for one specific scene that I wanted to show to my friend

[thefruitbros]

Meme redraw

[cloowwwwn]

did you think I forgot about them? Lmao if only….

[lithiumseven]

Bullet Train as incorrect quotes